


death girl

by pearlselegancies



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Catholicism, Character Death, F/M, Gen, Latino Character, M/M, Mexican Character, Mythology - Freeform, Scott McCall (Teen Wolf)-centric, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:02:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24605116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearlselegancies/pseuds/pearlselegancies
Summary: Marisol De Luna died somewhat unexpectedly. She knew it was coming, that her father's past with the cartels would catch up to them sooner than later. It was painless thankfully, and the girl is ready to move on.But something is holding her back, and she soon learns that that something, is the Mexican Saint of death - Santa Muerte. Santa Muerte has a mission for Marisol, keep Scott McCall and his friends out of death's grasp.Marisol is beyond confused, what is so important about this Scott boy, why is death asking her to keep someone alive, and why does Scott keep almost dying?
Relationships: Melissa McCall & Original Female Character(s), Scott McCall & The McCall Pack, Scott McCall (Teen Wolf) & Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

**_You will be alone always and then you will die. - Richard Siken._ **

**_[....]_ **

Her room was cold. As Marisol looked at herself from above, the first thing she noticed was that her room was cold. 

She was dead, she wasn't sure how she knew so, but it was a strong emotion she could feel. She walked closer to her body and gently grabbed her own wrist. It had been nearly 40 minutes since the poison had run its course, and her body was already cold. 

Am I a ghost now? Marisol wondered. This was weird, looking at her dead body and seeing it. Just as she thought that, everything went black. It felt as if she was falling asleep, but that couldn't be happening. She took several harsh and dry breaths, and god, she was scared out of her mind. What the hell was going on? She was already dead, so why was she so scared? 

Before she could get an answer, she heard a voice - a woman's voice heavily accented like her Abuela's. "Marisol De Luna. Birthdate: May 11th 1994. Death date: June 19th 2016." 

Marisol tried to turn around as her feet hit the floor, earning a soft tsk from the woman. "Oh niña pequeña. You don't know who I am do you?" Marisol shook her head, chills running down her spine. "I am what your abuela and your father referred to as la Madrina. My followers refer to me as Santa Muerte if that jogs your memory." 

_ Oh shit.  _ Marisol thought. Of course she would be talking to death incarnate, she was dead after all. Santa Muerte came closer, and turned Marisol around, gently tracing her cheek. "Yes, you will do nicely for this. The perfect gift for my ahijado." 

"Godson?" Marisol asked, her heart - which was somehow still working, pounding in her ears. "I-I know you are the saint for prostitutes and those who belong on the outskirts of society but I don't think you can marry me off to some boy. Do goddesses even have the right to do that?" 

Santa Muerte raised an eyebrow at her. The Saint stared at her, clearly annoyed. Her form shifted from being that of an elderly woman, to a young girl - almost Marisol's age. "Listen to me niña pequeña. I am death itself. You were blessed to have a very painless death, but I can change that. Remember, some of my greatest followers are cartel members like your Tio Diego." 

Marisol looked at her, her heart still pounding in her ears. Santa Muerte smiled wickedly before continuing. "I am not marrying you off to a boy, what do you think this is? Colonial Mexico? No, niña estúpida. My godson needs help staying alive, and I have chosen you to help him." 

Staying alive? Marisol thought. Why does Death want someone to stay alive? __

Santa Muerte placed her hand on her shoulder, and Marisol looked at her, the young girl's face turning to one of a skull. Marisol sucked in her breath, scared shitless. "His name is Scott McCall-Delgado, but you'll most likely find him using Scott McCall.." Santa Muerte's face morphed again, back to the original old woman's. 

"He has been cursed with the bite of a wolf, a hombre lobo. Scott, my poor sweet ahijado, he has taken on the role of being an alpha, and it is bound to kill him. But his mother, mi comadre Melissa, well she prayed to me all those years ago, begging me to allow him to live a long and good life." 

If Marisol hadn’t been confused before, she definitely was. This Scott kid, he was a werewolf? Like in a bad MTV tv show? God, this was crazy. 

“Ok. What am I supposed to do?” Santa Muerte smiled at her, her gumless mouth opening. “You, my dear will be my eyes on Earth. You will watch Scott and keep him from dying. Entiendes?” Marisol nodded before looking at the saint confused. 

“I’m dead. How am I going to watch him?” Santa Muerte scoffed, her form shifting to that of a young woman again. “They won’t be able to see you mi vida. Use that to your advantage. Now get going, I must get your body found.” 

And as quickly as she had appeared, Santa Muerte disappeared. And just the opposite of her current situation, Marisol felt herself wake up. 

  
  



	2. two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott McCall was the most annoying teenage boy Marisol had ever met. Not in that he was an asshole, or hard to like, but in that she found it impossible to find him alone. Always with someone, whether that was his best friend Stiles Stliniski, or his other friends Lydia Martin and Allison Argent, the kid was never alone.

**_“In the end, it wasn't death that surprised her but the stubbornness of life.”_ **

**_― Jeffrey Eugenides, The Virgin Suicides_ **

**_[....]_ **

Scott McCall was the most annoying teenage boy Marisol had ever met. Not in that he was an asshole, or hard to like, but in that she found it impossible to find him alone. Always with someone, whether that was his best friend Stiles Stliniski, or his other friends Lydia Martin and Allison Argent, the kid was never alone. 

All throughout the school day, he had someone beside him, and even after school during Lacrosse, Stiles hung around. 

“Seriously dude.” Marisol grumbled as she followed him, glaring at the group as they exited the school, the two girls getting into a car. "It is not that hard to be alone for five goddamn minutes. Jesús que jode a Cristo." Thankfully, he couldn't see her. She had checked whether people could see her earlier that morning with the old lady from down the street. No reaction whatsoever.

Scott finally walked away from Stiles after almost 20 minutes, 20 minutes where Marisol considered throwing her chanclas at him just to get his attention. It was a goddamn fucking miracle that she didn't. 

As she followed him out to his bike, a Harley Davidson which holy shit must have cost him a lot of money, she began to have an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. Which y'know, was saying something, as she was dead. 

Still. She had a mission to complete, keep him alive, and that was what she was gonna do. She walked next to him, and quietly whispered, "Don't take your bike today."

Scott turned around and looked her dead in the eyes. "Who are you?" He asked, and if she was alive, Marisol was sure her heart would have stopped. He stepped closer, and attempted to grab her forearm. His fingers passed through like sand falling. 

"You're dead." He said, and she rolled her eyes. Of all the ways for this to happen. "No shit burro!" They stared each other down, and never before had Marisol been so glad for an empty parking lot. 

"Why are you following me, if you're dead?" He asked, and Marisol resisted the urge to slap him. "Because, Santa Muerte has made it very clear that I have to keep  _ you _ alive because you keep putting yourself into stupidass situations. Which y'know, is completely unfair because  _ hello _ , I literally died two days ago dude. Let me get some time to deal with that before you force me to babysit your godson." 

She could practically smell Santa Muerte's perfume as she grumbled, the smell of warm brown sugar, and crisp leaves. Her spine stiffened before relaxing as the late summer breeze flew past her. 

Scott just stared at her before frowning. “Santa Muerte? Like the goddess?” Marisol pinched the bridge of her nose before nodding. “Yeah cabrón.” She sighed noticing the way Scott looked almost ashamed. “Look kid. I don’t know what bullshit your mami and papi have gotten themselves into, or what bullshit  _ you’ve _ gotten yourself into, but Santa Muerte is determined to keep you alive.” 

Scott nodded, and Marisol noticed how his jaw was uneven, and the way he was clenching his muscles. “Why?” He asked and Marisol shrugged. “I don’t know niño. But one thing I know for sure is this. You, Scott McCall are a pain in my ass as of right now, and I cannot wait to become a pain in yours.” She grinned at him before turning on her heel and disappearing into the woods. 

God, she was so going to regret this. 


End file.
